


Deprivation

by ulstergirl (ndnickerson)



Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ulstergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned are in the middle of a case, one sleep deprived night. Vignette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deprivation

His hands.

The lamp over the kitchen table spilled golden light onto the spread newspaper clippings, over his hands. The pencil between his fingers, the eraser tapping on the wood. Outside the cold breathed against the windowpanes and a luminous sliver of moon hung in the sky. Soon the horizon would glow between the trees and she would succumb, but not yet. They were so close. They had to be. The answer had to be somewhere on this table.

Nancy pushed her chair back and it slid with a squeal of protest, and Ned glanced up, his liquid gaze searching for and finding hers. They shared a glance before she lifted the pot out of the coffee maker, poured herself another cup. She raised it, and her eyebrows, but he shook his head.

"One last chance."

His voice, warm and low, washed over her, and she closed her eyes. "I'm not calling my dad," she replied.

"Then I'm staying here," he said. "This guy is nuts and I'm not leaving you here alone."

She hid her smile behind another sip of coffee. Sometimes his stubborn streak was mildly frustrating, but tonight, his brushing off her protests was a relief.

"Then you're staying here," she replied.

He dipped his head in acknowledgment, but he was fading fast. She was having problems keeping her gaze on anything for long, and the warm rush of coffee down her throat gave her only a momentary high. She slipped back into her chair and put the coffee at her elbow, picked up the highlighter again.

"It has to be here."

"I know," Ned replied. Then he smiled. "But if it's here now it'll be here in the morning. Even if we do figure out what that clue means."

She propped her chin on her hands and her gaze wavered between his cheek and mouth. "Just a little while longer," she said finally.

His smile turned wry. "Just a little while longer," he repeated, but his voice was almost stern. He reached for her hand and gave it a brief squeeze before he flipped over another sheet of newsprint, returning to their search.

She looked down at her hand for a full minute, her skin still tingling from the touch of his.

She had read the sentence three times when she was suddenly aware of his hands on her shoulders, and her forehead was pressed against her forearm, which was on the table, and her gaze tracked slow with exhaustion. "Mmm," she groaned.

"Sleep," he murmured.

"Just a," she began. Her eyelids fluttered. "Oh man."

"Sleep," he repeated, kneeling down beside her, and after a moment she slid her arms around his neck and allowed him to lift her into his embrace. He put her on the couch as he went through the kitchen, gathering the newspaper clippings into piles, turning off the coffee maker and the light, putting their drained mugs into the sink. When he came back to the living room she had one arm flung across her forehead, but her open eyes glinted up at him in the dark.

"We'll only sleep for a few hours," she told him, with the barest hint of a question in her voice.

"Sure," he replied, carrying her up the stairs, and she nestled her face against his chest. He shouldered open her bedroom door and carried her inside, and she curled up still in her jeans and socks, murmuring happily into the pillow.

"I'll be downstairs."

"Wake me up in a few hours."

"Sure."

"I mean it," she said, with all the sternness she could muster, but she could have sworn she heard him chuckle as he walked away.

She didn't dream.

Her stomach rolled sick with acid from too many cups of coffee and too little food, all nervous energy and racing thoughts, but she fell into slow shallow exhaustion, safe in the knowledge that Ned was downstairs, sleeping on the couch and making sure nothing would happen to her. Ned, who had given up his spring break to stay here in River Heights with her, throwing away their plans for a getaway without a second thought.

Faint blue under the curtains. So faint. He had pulled them while she slept, and she stared for a moment, wishing that she could actually sleep. But that would come later. They were so close. Maybe tonight. Maybe once he was behind bars, she and Ned could go out for a nice dinner, a movie, something normal, a well-deserved celebration.

When she went downstairs he was sitting up on the couch, rubbing his palms over his face, his skin shining with exhaustion. "Hey," he said softly.

"Just needed something to settle my stomach," she told him, smiling softly. "We don't have to... another hour."

He nodded, slumping in relief. "Maybe a fresh pot of coffee."

She grimaced. "If you make it," she returned. "I can't even think about it right now." She slipped her palms down, cradling her stomach.

He nodded again and pushed himself off the couch, and they were standing there, in the living room, mustering their strength, when they both heard it.

The kitchen door swinging open, on quiet hinges.

"Stay here," he breathed, and Nancy's brow creased in agitation, but his expression brooked no argument. His outstretched arm, his hand with fingers spread, holding her back. He vanished through the door, silent, and she waited, and waited.

And it came crashing through the stillness, the sound of a scuffle, bones against wood and glass trembling in the cabinets, and she waited only the space of another breath before she pushed through.

The knife. They were both scrabbling for a knife, just out of reach, just at the edge of desperate fingertips, Ned's arm wrapped around the masked head, gasped breaths and grunts of exertion.

Only a second to take it all in and she kicked the knife away. Rope. She had to find rope. Ned wrestled the man's arms behind his back, and Nancy lifted the mask to find an unfamiliar face.

"It isn't him," she said, and she sank to her knees before his impassive face, her heart sinking all the way to her toes. "He sent someone else. Someone else."

"Call the police," Ned said, softly.

"Call the police," she repeated, and the words meant nothing, in the thick grey waves of thick exhaustion and disappointment. "Yes."

After the police did come, after their statements, the dawn was no longer deniable, but even the smell of coffee wasn't enough, after the adrenaline crash and his fingers laced between hers. She had promised herself another hour. She would have another hour.

They trudged up the stairs. She heard him stifle a yawn against the back of his other hand. Once they walked into her room he didn't ask and she didn't offer, but they walked to her bed together, creeping under the covers, his arms wrapped around her. Nothing more and nothing less.

If she had slept alone, if they had slept through that soft warning...

She mumbled something and turned her face into the pillow, giving in to it. Just an hour.

An hour and fifteen minutes. An hour and thirty.

She turned in his arms and slung an arm over her eyes, blocking the sun, and the phone was ringing. She groaned aloud and rolled out of Ned's arms and they were stiff and the phone, she would turn the ringer off, once she just...

"Hello?"

Dial tone.

She let the receiver fall to her lap and turned. "Just a," she began.

There was blood on his shirt. On her sheets. The bright tip of a knife just showing through the fabric. Over his heart.

Over his.

She sucked in a breath for a scream, his face was slack and ashen grey and, he had killed him, her job had killed him, if only she had, if she could--

The phone was ringing.

"Drew residence."

Her tearing eyes popped open and the sob stuck in her throat. Ned was leaning over her, warm and breathing and alive, the phone to his ear, murmuring soft agreements into the receiver. He hung up and looked down at her, and she blinked up into his eyes, unable to stop staring, the first tears sliding down to trace the curves of her ears.

"Nan?" he asked, concerned.

She nodded, and swallowed, and the sob became just a soft exhalation, as her eyes searched his.

"That was the police station," he said, and traced a thumb over her cheek, over her tears. "They've made a tentative ID. I told them we'd be down there in a little while, but the chief knows we're exhausted. You okay?"

"I'm okay," she nodded, and put her arms around him, her face against his chest. His whole, unbroken chest. "I had a nightmare. So we have to be down there in a little while."

"Yeah," Ned replied, wrapping his arms around her, rocking her gently. "Go back to sleep, back to sleep."

She reached up and traced her fingertips over his cheek. "Promise me," she said. "We'll go out tonight and have a nice dinner and forget about all this, no matter what."

He chuckled softly. "That's usually my line," he said, and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "Yeah, I promise."

"Okay," she said. "Okay. You know I love you, right?"

"I've never had any doubt," he replied, stroking her back, and soon she had fallen into a dreamless sleep, in the tangle of their embrace.


End file.
